When goodbye really means hello...

A year ago. Say those three words and my mind begins to go into tunnel vision mode. I am falling back 365 days to this day in the year two-thousand-and-nine, when I found myself traveling with an unlikely group of people: Betsy, Joe, Katie and the affable Mr. Robert Parks. I met these four incredible, eccentric, unforgettable individuals in Oxford, England, where we all were studying various subjects at various colleges, yet through the same study abroad programme. And so, after three weeks of strolling on cobblestoned streets beneath crisp September skies, and weaving down twisting lanes and unlit alleyways to meet for pints (from The Bear to Turf to The White House), we found ourselves planning a trip to Ireland, to all of Ireland (practically all of Ireland).

A year ago. Three words that propel me back to rich accents, the abundance of Gaelic spoken in Cork, the harbor town of Kinsale with its remaining Roman streets, the hostels and Temple Bar district of Dublin, the history of Bloody Sunday as we meandered the streets and maiden walls of Derry, industrious Belfast, Carrick-a-rede Bridge, Dunluce Castle, Giants' Causeway and the misty morning spent climbing the pastoral foothills to reach Celtic ruins more ancient than the pyramids of Egypt... and that's just the tip of the iceberg. So as I'm making my way to class last Friday morning in temperatures nearing the triple digits (yuck!), I couldn't help but reminisce, for the landscape and people of Ireland and greater Los Angeles couldn't contrast more. I've come to realize lately that Ireland, particularly Oxford, redefined what I would call "home." My sense of home is less certain than it's ever been before, and yet, I am surprised by the joy and reassurance I find in that statement. There's an element of even greater things to come in not knowing where I will find myself next, and it is in this mindset that I received an e-mail from the one and only Deepak Mukhi, the director of the Oxford Programme in Oxford. Deepak was replying to my flatmate Antonio's e-mail regarding a lost parcel (package) from ages ago, and to my last postcard. Needless to say, as I'm pondering where I'm headed when college is all said and done, this gloriously falls into my Inbox. Deepak may or may not have brought tears of unbelievable joy to my sleep-deprived eyes when they scanned this gem. And so, with no further ado, read on...


Greetings Antonio,
...But I was rather looking forward to seeing you here together with the others. Had a nice post card from Kelly the other day so I'm copying her, thank you Kelly! Why don't we get together for a meal or something? In fact, and this is a rare offer, 107 will be free for a bit in December so if it fitted in with your collective plans why don't I invite you all to use it for a week either just before or just after Christmas? I'm sure you would take good care of it and keep it ready for the new lot arriving early January.  Think about it and let me know!
Trust you are all well and in good spirits.
Deepak

Antonio (flatmate), Mr. Deepak Mukhi, Diana, Justin (flatmate)

Yes. I have officially been extended an invitation to spend a week back in my old Oxford flat, 107 Botley, along with my three old flatmates. (a;lsdfj;alksdjf;a!@$ASDFa;lksdfj;[]\) Little excited, just a little. Who knows who'll turn up, all I know is I finally have a place where I'm headed, and that place is home. The place where life was so full in countless ways. Where I'll wrap myself in scarves, shove my feet into red wellies, walk with my head down against the winter wind as I cross the river Thames, one foot in front of the other, until those spires come into sight. Ah, life is abundantly good. SO deeply, satisfyingly good.